For Easter: My Close Encounter with Jesus Christ

#1
Foreword


In the Dream Sequence thread for episodes 6.02 & 6.03, I mentioned that I had an extremely personal and profound encounter with the spirit of Jesus Christ in 1994. I recently received a couple of private communications expressing interest in and curiosity about that encounter. Given that Christ asked his disciples and believers to “witness” for Him to others; given the marked existential, spiritual, and religious themes being explored on the show itself this season; and given that this is Easter weekend, I felt a single, public account of the experience would be a proper and auspiciously-timed alternative to individual private replies.

This proffer should not in any way threaten any of the membership of The Chase Lounge, regardless of religious belief or lack thereof. My intent is solely to relate my experience to others as best I can for whatever that may be worth to them.

Background


I feel any effort to assess the credibility of my story should entail some minimal consideration of my life history. So I offer those background facts which could influence that assessment, in either direction, while hoping that their inclusion doesn’t bore anyone to death(!) or convey some sort of ego trip on my part.

I am the third of three children, born to two very intelligent parents who were models of love and devotion to me and to my siblings and who valued learning and scholastic achievement. My brother, while often disinterested in secondary school, did find academic focus in college, receiving the Merck Award and a degree in chemistry at the University of Florida before going on to medical school there and, eventually, a career in radiation oncology. My sister was always an excellent student and attained a degree in accounting information systems before passing the CPA exam and taking a job as an auditor with the state of Florida. Both followed the “normal” paths to success in life . . . went to college, found good vocations, married, and had children.

I excelled in school as well, enough that I wound up skipping three grades and starting college at age 15 without ever graduating high school. My intellect and scholastic success convinced my mother (and me, among others) that I was headed for “big” things in life. Even so, I was never fixed on a traditional, academic career. I had begun playing piano by ear around the age of four or five and started classical lessons a year later. By early adolescence, music was “the” passion in my life.

The single biggest element of that passion was the music of Elton John, which I discovered around the age of eight or nine. His music prompted me to do things that seem highly symbolic (if not plain weird!) in retrospect, like pointing the speakers of my stereo out of my bedroom window and climbing a nearby tree to listen to “Daniel” and “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” over and over from the treetops. I saw him perform for the first of 19 times in September of 1974, when I was 10 years old.

He was certainly a major factor in my decision to transfer after two years of academic college studies to Berklee College of Music in Boston, noted for its emphasis of jazz and contemporary music curriculum. I graduated summa cum laude from Berklee three years later at the age of 19.

Unfortunately, graduation came with the sad reality that I was now expected to “do something” with my degree and my life. Somewhere along the journey from childhood obsessions and indulgences to the age of majority, the truth had begun to emerge: the only thing that really fueled my discipline to write and arrange music was the structure of a scholastic environment and the threat of receiving an “F” if I didn’t deliver an assignment on time. Once out of school, I never quite found the musical ambition, regular inspiration, or discipline that I expected I would have. So “doing something” with my degree consisted of moving back home and playing in a local rock band while moving through the first phase of an increasingly urgent existential and spiritual crisis.

I arrested that crisis after a year by attending law school, motivated, I’m sure, by the certain knowledge that this would please and honor my father, who was a lawyer and judge himself, and that it would delay the need to deal with “life” for another three years. The law school experience was valuable in many ways, but my fundamental unfitness for the profession couldn’t have been clearer as I began interviewing in my second and third years with high-paying firms and realized how foreign the people, their values, and their ambitions felt to me.

I came back home for a year after law school, nominally to weigh options, finish a directed study project for which I’d received provisional credit, and study for the bar exam. In actuality, the delay was but another manifestation of my inability to truly leave my parents’ “nest” or find a niche in life, a vocation or calling I could pursue with the same passion I’d put into listening to Elton John or playing music as a kid.

Coincident with this time frame were a rash of personal tragedies -- all occurring within a month of each other -- including my father’s first heart attack, the horrible death of a beloved dog, the death from cancer of a young guitarist who’d formed my first band with me, the complete brain death (followed by physical death some years later) of a family friend and tennis partner who’d flipped his car swerving to avoid a deer in the road, and the death of my grandmother. Already on a track of questioning why there should be any such thing as life, why I had to experience it, what I was supposed to do while here, and why absolute nothingness wasn’t infinitely preferable to it all, these events served as a turbo charge to my existential crisis and accompanying, deep depression. And they also fueled my growing disdain for any god that had any part in authoring “life,” not that I truly believed there was such a god.

Which brings me to my religious upbringing. My siblings and I were all baptized Catholic, as my mother was Catholic, and our earliest, sporadic forays to church were at a local Catholic church.

I was enrolled for five years in a private protestant Christian school, not for religious reasons (my brother and sister attended public schools all their lives) but because that school had an attached and convenient day care/pre-school facility that I’d already been attending the year before kindergarten. The transition to actual school there was the simplest move for all involved. So in addition to studies in math and reading, I was, at a young age, also memorizing Bible verses every week.

The narrow-minded conservatism of that school eventually wore thin, however. I resented from the get go that I had to wear dresses every single day. I resented the lesser expectations, interest, and encouragement that was shown girls vis-à-vis boys in regard to sports. Most of all, I resented the Draconian attitudes toward rock/contemporary music, manifest in “Rock Record Shoots” the school sponsored where old vinyl rock albums were slung into the air like skeets while waiting marksmen tried to blast them with shotguns. (I kid you not. This actually happened.) Fourth was my last grade at this school.

To ensure that we weren’t brainwashed with any particular religious philosophy, my father used to drag us to a Universalist Unitarian church at least a couple of weeks a month, partly because I think it was the most subversive church he could find in the area, LMAO. As I recall, the creed of the church was belief in “the supreme worth of every human being”. Beyond that, it was pretty much up to the individual . . . be they Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu, what have you. They even claimed to welcome atheists, LMAO!

On top of all this, my parents (and my mother in particular) were extremely well-read and would share aspects of certain quasi-religious and atheistic philosophies within the home. So despite a Catholic baptism, a few years of diverse church experience, and some years of protestant schooling, religious belief and its parameters were very much left up to the children in our family.

I would say that my first conviction after reaching an age of “reason” was that either (1) there was no god; (2) there was and he was an incompetent, impotent ass for creating the horribly defective universe and race of humans that we know; or (3) there was a god and he was omnipotent but cruel and spiteful, thus, for example, the very existence of widely disparate individuals with the indigenous need to make and achieve invidious comparisons among their fellow men.

I always had a hard time rectifying the life of Christ with this bleak view of God, so, to the extent that I even let myself consider the incongruity, I pretty much concluded that Jesus was a great but deluded guy who thought he was something he wasn’t.

That was pretty much where I stood when, on the heels of law school and the aforementioned personal tragedies, I finally took a job with an Orlando law firm some 500 miles away from my parents. I soon became so depressed that suicidal thoughts and wishes for terminal illness were common, though not revealed to family. Neither psychotherapy (at my father’s insistence) nor prozac did anything to alleviate matters. So after only four months, I made one simple but tearful phone call to my parents, telling them only that I couldn’t go to work that day.

To anyone who’s ever wondered at the concepts of “redemption” and “unconditional love,” I would wish only for you to feel what I felt in those moments the next day when I opened my door and saw them standing there to pack my things and take me home, no questions asked, no alternatives considered. In an instant they lifted from my shoulders what felt to me like the proverbial weight of the world and did so in only the purest sense of charity and altruism. There was not the slightest trace of shame then or at anytime thereafter that a 25 year-old daughter with undergraduate and post graduate degrees seemed incapable of establishing a career or a life independent from them, that she was back in their home yet again, that she was, in many societal senses, a “failure,” disinterested even in marrying or entertaining romantic relationships.

If these statements sound like projections of my own feelings, they were. Dealing with the guilt over my perceived failures and struggling to find “meaning” in life continued over the next several years as I continued to live – unemployed – in my parents’ home. At my father’s urging, I remained in psychotherapy and tried a range of antidepressants for a while, none of which really helped.

As I suppose is the norm for those enduring existential, spiritual crises, I started looking to “God” for answers. I recall once trying to pray while driving and finding it utterly a sham because I didn’t fully believe there was anything to pray to. The compromise I adopted in that moment was along the lines of, “I don’t have much faith in this, but with every ounce of sincerity I can muster, I ask that you help me believe, help me develop faith in you.”

Nothing came of this for at least a year or so, and I can’t recall praying much during the rest of that time. But things suddenly and quite unexpectedly changed in August of 1994 in an Atlanta hotel room.

The Prelude


The occasion was the first “Elton John Expo,” a two-day communal festival for people that are as freaky about Elton John as most members of this forum are about the Sopranos.:-) Sponsored by a fan magazine that I’d heard about from a longtime fellow Elton maniac and best friend, who also happened to be a very committed Christian that tried to gently tug me toward God from time to time, the guests of honor at this event included longtime Elton John band members Davey Johnstone and Nigel Olsson and the producer of all his greatest albums, Gus Dudgeon.

The closing attraction was a showcase for attendees who were also musicians, and I was among those who played the piano that night in front of the 150 or so people assembled. Without intending to sound immodest, the response to my playing was so singularly intense, prolonged, and effusive that, at one point, I felt badly for those who might have wanted to play but had not yet had the chance, as they would have to follow the whooping, loud whistling, aggressive foot-stomping, rhythmic hand clapping, and unified chants of “More! More! More!” that followed the four or five songs I played.

To allow some sense of “spotlight” for other musicians and to avoid the continuous flow of people coming up to me in the main banquet room asking me to return to the piano, I agreed to go with a couple of nice guys I’d met that evening to a small grand piano off the main hotel lobby, where a “private” concert ensued that gradually picked up more and more audience members as random hotel wanderers (some Expo attendees, some not) dropped by.

During the course of this performance, I noticed a woman in her early 50s with a pronounced British accent hanging around the piano and gushing with applause and superlatives after I finished each song and issuing requests for what I should play next. A short time later, one of the event organizers, who’d also joined the fun, whispered in my ear, “You know who that is, don’t you?” I shook my head “no,” and he reported that it was Sheila Dudgeon, longtime wife of producer Gus Dudgeon (who was apparently not up for all the late night merriment and was sleeping in his room.)

The thing that most amazes me about that moment was how utterly calm I remained. Here was the wife of the producer of what I felt were the greatest rock albums ever recorded, a woman who was hanging around the studio when songs like “Funeral For a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding”, “Candle in the Wind”, and “Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy” were being written, arranged, and recorded. Here was a woman who was obviously well-acquainted, personally and professionally, with a man I’d worshipped since childhood. And yet I never became nervous.

That remained the case even after she came over, introduced herself to me a short time later, asked incredulously, “what are you doing with your talent,” and offered, even urged me to give her a tape, CD, or recording of some kind so that she could get it to her husband. I remember the incredible irony I felt in that moment, irony at the almost fairytale-like prospect of “discovery” by Elton John (or his associates), how that’s the kind of thing I fantasized about at 12 or 13 and yet was completely unprepared for in this chance meeting at 30. I regretfully informed her that I had no such recording or CD and that I hadn’t been pursuing a musical career.

I continued playing that night, however. And I played as well or better than I’ve ever played in my life and certainly with the most unwavering calm I’ve ever known in any public performance setting. Things finally shut down around 4:00 AM, when the crowd was running out of requests and I was running out of energy and time to rest before a 6 hour drive home later that day.

My first stop was the lobby ladies’ room, where for some reason I suddenly felt incredibly nauseous. I am not a drinker and had had nothing to drink or eat that evening that should have caused that problem. I did successfully quell the urge to vomit, however, returned to my room, dressed for bed, and lay down, excited at my brush with the inner circle of Elton John but terribly exhausted as well.

The Encounter


I hadn’t long closed my eyes and had not yet fallen asleep when suddenly something completely startling and ineffable impelled me to sit up in bed. The light seeping through the cracks of the hotel curtains failed to illuminate anything foreign or animate in the darkened room.

The next thing I knew, a stream of words started forming in my consciousness in an even, rhythmical pulse, one word after another, and seemed to enter my body and mind from the location of my forehead. With each rhythmical word pulse, I “saw” a concomitant flash of metaphysical purple light and felt a contemporaneous burning sensation in my forehead. It was as if a purple laser was searing the words, one at a time, into the frontal lobe of my brain, even though there was no actual purple light in the room.

Frightened, stunned, and somehow comforted all at once, I began crying uncontrollably. The stream of words that came to me (of which I can now only recall a small part, ver batim) conveyed that I was not to blame myself for failing to follow a traditional career path or for failing to become the “star” that I or others might have thought I was supposed to become, that I was put on the earth to be a “star for my family,” a “beacon” to lead them to Him. The one passage that I still recall word for word was this one: “I died for you. Can’t you live for me?”

Still sobbing while rivers of tears ran down my face, I silently asked who was speaking to me. This time, the answer was not verbal but was nevertheless immediate and clear. I suddenly became like a puppet, completely controlled by a master puppeteer. My arms slowly, smoothly, and completely involuntarily extended from my sides, rising from and pivoting at the shoulders until they extended 180 degrees out, hands drooping slightly at the wrists. As they came to a rest in this outstretched position, my head involuntarily drooped forward and to the side, leaving my upper body in complete, non-volitional mimicry of a crucifixion.

The Aftermath


For the next couple of days, I recall feeling almost alien on earth, even to my beloved immediate family. Everyone and everything seemed inadequate, pitiful, and/or foreign. I found it nearly impossible to eat, drink, or take in any sustenance and had no desire to hear music or partake in anything sensual. It was like the day after Christmas, pardon the pun, to the 100th power.

When I related all this to my mother some time later, she informed me that my experiences, particularly in the immediate aftermath, were identical to the kinds of things she’d read about in a book entitled, “The Varieties of Religious Experience,” which purports to correlate the objective, cross-cultural, cross-faith similarities that abound in purported experiences of a profoundly religious or spiritual nature.

Long term, the residue of this brief, two-minute encounter with Christ will undoubtedly stay with me for the rest of my life and has already helped me cope with the once unthinkable deaths of both my parents. Whenever my faith is threatened (which often happens from simply reading the Bible!), I can always safeguard it or restore it instantly by recalling the incredible gift of that night.

In posting about it here, I only hope that someone else, in dire need of faith but skeptical of or closed to the notion of Christ as Lord and Savior, will open themselves to a similar gift.

Re: For Easter: My Close Encounter with Jesus Christ

#2
Dear FOMW:
Thank you so much for that beautiful post that i just now came across. I am sorry i don't have more time at the moment to devote to expressing to you how touching your words were and how profoundly they affected me. I will say that i, too have had amazing experiences on this level- primarily relating to an event in my life years ago when i visited Yellowstone on a family camping trip and was struck by lightning, (clinically dead), went down the tunnel of light, and returned to tell the tale. As instantaneous as that was, the effects were lifelong and forever. Eternal. Later, when i have more time to give it the special time it takes, i hope we can talk more of this.

btw, i was in Pensacola and other regions of Florida on hurricane business some while back, and was given the wonderful book "The Purpose Driven Life", which left me with the deepest sense of respect and good feelings for everyone i ever met or worked with there. Everywhere i went i met a community of very blessed and sincere, good people. Isn't it amazing to what lengths God will go to get our attention?

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Re: For Easter: My Close Encounter with Jesus Christ

#3
Thanks for your reply, badabellisima. I'd be most interested to hear details about your Yellowstone experience when/if you ever care to elaborate.

I assume your Florida visit coincided with the rash of hurricanes of 2004 (when Ivan devastated Pensacola)? Do you work for FEMA?

That experience, painful as it was for so many, was also one of those rare experiences that affirm the goodness and resilience inhereing in many people. To see power crews working round the clock from places as far away as New Hampshire was quite moving, not to mention the many volunteers who drove untold miles to deliver generators and tarps to the area. Just proves the old point about silver linings.

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Re: For Easter: My Close Encounter with Jesus Christ

#4
Silver linings indeed! yes, at that time i was very blessed to work with FEMA- (before their less than stellar performance during Katrina).

I have always felt a strong kinship with Paul (formerly Saul)- who was struck with some sort of lightning flash- on the road to Damascus was it? -- when he converted to Christianity. Being a cradle catholic- i cannot remember when i didn't believe at some level, but i can tell you that after that experience in Yellowstone, i believed far more strongly and differently. My faith and intuition of the Spirit profoundly grew. I was on fire (literally), but didn't get burned. I exploded, but remained intact. The light that blasted my eyes out didn't blind me. But it surely left me changed. And i continue to discover all the time in what ways. Thanks again for this amazing forum- seems like everywhere i go i keep crossing paths with incredible people with special insight and awareness that lights my path.

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Re: For Easter: My Close Encounter with Jesus Christ

#7
My first reaction after reading your post was to post something along the lines of, Well, no wonder they call Him "The Word".

But, I thought some people might consider that to be disrespectful - kind of a flip comment and that's not at all my intent. I have often heard Jesus referred to as "The Word" by serious Christian theologians. They say that there is only one God but that God is actually a family of beings. That is a very neat way to adhere to God's first commandment ("I am the LORD thy God; thou shalt have no other gods before me.") while at the same time allowing for multiple gods. It's always seemed a bit of a sticking point. The biggest problem I've always had with Christianity is that on the one hand, Christians seem to admit that there is only one God, but on the other hand, they give Christ the same status as God. I've never been able to understand this contradiction.

But, if you accept that God is a single entity, while at the same time affirming that God is a plurality of beings - or a family of beings - then it seems Christ's role in the family is to act as the word of God or to communicate whatever it is that God wants to communicate to us. I remember that God spoke directly to Moses, Noah and Abraham but it would seem that is a rare event. Or maybe it was because that was in the Old Testament and was before Jesus was born?

When you described the way that Christ communicated to you, by placing one word after another directly into your mind, that is very much like the way I would expect someone who is described as God's word to communicate to a human. I don't have any idea as to the role of some of the other members of God's family. But it seems that Christ's role is to communicate with people.

I don't really have much else to say. I guess I'd like to say is that your experience rings true to me - not that that should matter very much.

I'd like to think about your experience and if I think of anything more to say to you about it, I'll come back and post again.

One question that comes to mind. Have you ever thought of any reason why He would have used that particular color? I have a few other questions. But I can't believe that if I asked them here people wouldn't think that I was just trying to be a wise ass. I guess that is difficult to explain.

Re: For Easter: My Close Encounter with Jesus Christ

#8
Splish, thanks for taking the time to read and reply to this post. I would have requested that you do so anyway before I engage in the thread you started a few days ago re claims that Christ is the "only" way to God, just so you have the very personal background that forms the basis of my particular faith. (And, no, I haven't at all forgotten about your thread. I just don't want to reply until I feel in the proper mindset, ready to give it all the thought and consideration it deserves.:icon_wink: Work has picked up drastically the last few days for me, partly because I'd put so much of it on hold during finale week and the week after!)

I'm leisurely reading a rather interesting book at the moment (a rarity for me!) called "The Physics of Christianity". In it, the author postulates that there are many universes (called in physics circles the "multiverse") and that they all began in what's called a "singularity," akin to the notion of the Big Bang (or God -- the uncaused cause). He postulates it will end in a "final singularity" where the multiverse collapses in on itself again and that this will be occasioned by a third singularity. He further postulates that these three singularities are actually one singularity and, for this reason, thinks Christianity, with it's doctrine of a Holy Trinity, is the religion that actually gets it right (even though he might not share the popular concept of what "God" is).

Don't ask me what this means, as I have no idea. But the guy does think of Christ as the third singularity and points out that genetic testing on the shroud of Turin (and other relics purported to have come in contact with Christ's body) supports the notion that Christ was an "XX" male (two X chromosomes instead of an X and a Y), something that would be consistent with the notion of Christ taking all of his DNA from his mother in a "virgin" conception. I thought the guy was nuts until I googled "XX male" and found that there is such a phenomenon in the world (and not as exceedingly rare as one might think.)

At times I have felt particular divine inspiration in some endeavor, feeling in those moments like nothing but a medium whose body was appropriated by some outside force for its own purposes, yet fully willing to lend myself for the task. When I was at a public event once and started telling some folks in person about this experience, for example, I suddenly lost all control or forethought about my words and just heard myself speaking. There was not an ounce of effort or anxiety about it. I was just suddenly hearing myself in the third person describing what had happened, powerless to stop, control, or dictate the content in any way of what I heard myself saying.

This kind of thing has probably happened half a dozen times or more since the experience with Christ itself. And although each of these experiences was deeply profound, there was not the visceral, physiological component that I felt with Christ. No purple light, no burning sensation in the forehead, no consciousness of words literally being branded into the front of my brain in a uniform, rhythmic, word-by-word pulse.

My conclusion is that these differences are due to the fact that the Holy Spirit was responsible for all the other moments of divine connection I've experienced while Christ was the agent in the one that is the subject of this thread. I suppose it's some intuitive sense that Christ, as the human form of God, somehow uniquely is able to affect the senses, perception, and physiology of the body in the way I felt.

As for why the light was purplish, my only guess is that the color purple is associated with Easter and the crucifixion. I don't really know why, but I've seen crosses with a purple cloth draping them at Easter time.
Tony, his spirits crushed after b-lining to the fridge first thing in the morning: "Who ate the last piece of cake?"

Re: For Easter: My Close Encounter with Jesus Christ

#9
Please note: All of the thread titles referred to in this post may be found in the Meet Market Forum. (I think).


Hello Fly,

The first time I saw this thread's title, it frightened me and I tried to steer clear of it since then. Unfortunately, that was a mistake since it may well be the most interesting thread on this board. In time, it may even become as interesting as some of the Soprano threads. So, I must admit to feeling a little sheepish at having been scared by a title and I am very glad that I finally took the time to screw up my courage and read your post.

Given that the account you wrote described what may well have been the most pivotal event of your life, my guess is that you would have been disappointed because it has been more than a year since you first created this thread, and in all that time only one person - Bellisima - ever replied to you. If I was you, I know that I would find it disappointing that only one person would choose to engage with me on a topic whch is very important to.

Now, I'm sure that many other people read your post and wanted to reply, but had no idea what to say or how to say it and that was almost the case for me. But as you are well aware, many of my threads get no replies because they can be kind of weird or just not very interesting. As a result, I have been disappointmented by putting some effort into a thread and then watching as the world just passes it by. Of course our situations here are very different. You put a large amount of time and effort into this thread as well as a lot of your heart and soul whereas most of the threads I've started do not contain nearly that same level of effort.

Nevertheless, being familiar with the kind of disappointment that results from creating orphaned threads, I felt it would be a real shame not to reply to you in this thread. As a matter of fact, I have made a few cyber-friends here in The Chase Lounge because there are some people here with awfully big hearts, who I'm sure have taken pity on some of my more lonely threads and after a few days of no replies, I believe they tend to throw me a bone and post some kind of reply - kind of a "pity post". EndOfAlice, EdaMaria and WhistlingInTheWheatfield come to mind. Some people might be offended by that. But not me. I love them for doing it.

Some of my threads just don't interest a lot of people - like the Parker Posey thread or the Scientology thread and in those cases, I've had to resign myself to the fact there just may be no replies. But I see some of them as an honest attempt at doing a good deed.

Perhaps you might consider my thread on Banks and Banking (http://thechaselounge.net/showthread.php?t=2110) to be one such example. I have found that banks often get away with "sharp practices" that take advantage of people who are unaware of these policies. If some of these policies were to become more widely known, the banks would no longer be able to get away with some of the tricks they pull. This is one of the great things about the web and message boards. People can make this information public and make the case that others should tell all their friends and family and help spread the word. In this way, policies that effectively cheat people owing to their ignorance can become more widely known and people can thereby protect themselves from being cheated.

This may also be one of the ways this forum can keep going after The Sopranos is over. There are many people here that have learned some great life lessons over the years and seem willing to share them with others. So far as I know, there is no existing facility that enables people to make this kind of info available to others who may be looking for some advice.

It would be wonderful if there were a place where this kind of information could be shared among people for their mutual benefit. If some members here who have learned some good life lessons would be willing to post about some of those lessons, other members would stand to benefit. For example, the banks and banking thread explains how I was tricked out of $5,000 when I took out a car loan and this is something that seems to happen often to other people. It also explains how people can protect themselves against that same thing happening to them. This kind of trickery only happens because people are unaware of a specific banking policy that enables the bank to take advantage of people who don't know about it. I sincerely hope that people might consider doing a good deed by teling other members of some of the life lessons they have learned over the years. These kinds of lessons could be of great value to others and I would hope they might represent a strong attraction to help this board to keep going. Anyway, it sounds similar to the Christian "golden rule" to me and perhaps, it might make sense to give people a separate section of the Lounge dedicated to this kind of sharing?

So, as far as my other thread titled, "What is the single most important religious question of today?", I feel a need to advise you (although you probably already know) that I tend to get carried away with a topic and invest a lot of energy in creating a thread, but later on, I tend to lose much of my initial interest and energy. So, I anticipate only having enough energy to write another one or two paragraphs on that topic and want to advise you of this because I think it would be a real shame if you spent a day or two writing a large essay and I replied to you with only a very scant reply.

Re: For Easter: My Close Encounter with Jesus Christ

#10
Splishak wrote:My first reaction after reading your post was to post something along the lines of, Well, no wonder they call Him "The Word"....


But, if you accept that God is a single entity, while at the same time affirming that God is a plurality of beings - or a family of beings - then it seems Christ's role in the family is to act as the word of God or to communicate whatever it is that God wants to communicate to us. I remember that God spoke directly to Moses, Noah and Abraham but it would seem that is a rare event. Or maybe it was because that was in the Old Testament and was before Jesus was born?...


Splishak, that was one of the most profound and concise grapplings with the incomprehensible mystery of the Trinity that I have ever heard! In my faith (Catholic), we believe that God is One in Three Persons, Father Son and Holy Ghost- All at one time. Even my priest doesn’t attempt to explain it- he just directs us to the great Mystery of it with the humble sort of apology that he cannot grasp it, and that no one can, really. Might be what we’re all here for.

As for the physics aspect, right now, there are some interesting challenges to String Theory that sheds light on some inconsistencies in how we view the quote Big Bang Theory, and I think it then comes full circle and allows for re-examination of how we view The End according to our Christian beliefs- or whatever our faith is. I love science and physics for the beautiful way it can reflect cosmic and spiritual understanding, and at the same time, Religions (all of them to an extent), still surpass the scientific explanation in the last “analysis”. We can never fully “know” God with any scientific study. But our attempts are beautiful in and of themselves. God didn’t give us the capacity to grapple these complex mysteries for no reason.

Anyway- I have been so busy for months with my awful commute and new job that I am unable to get to all your posts yet. But I will. (Even if someone doesn’t respond doesn’t mean they aren’t listening…).
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